


The Best Laid Plans

by Lillio



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillio/pseuds/Lillio
Summary: After an infuriating number of his men have been picked off by a sniper belonging to one of his rivals, Jim decides to take matters into his own hands. But Sebastian Moran's murder is not so easy as he'd initially anticipated. Also, Jim pretends to be a prostitute because if there's one thing Sebastian Moran can't resist, it's a man in skin-tight pants.





	

The street lights shone down on the still-wet pavement, making it glitter like silver. The alley behind the bar was grimy enough that Jim didn’t dare press his back up against it. Cans of beer and the crumpled butts of soggy cigarettes intermingled amongst the piles of filth that lined the cobbled alleyway. 

Dressed as he was, Jim flattered himself that he fit quite well amongst it all. His pants clung tightly to his legs, outlining the muscles of his thighs and calves, and his white tank top was equally form-fitting and thin enough to be practically see-through. His hair hung messily around his face, and he’d lined his eyes with just the barest hint of a dark eyeliner so as to make himself unmistakable for what he was. 

A man, clad in a thick leather jacket was sauntering towards him, obviously intoxicated. “How much?” he breathed a puff of liquor scented air into his face.  
Jim just scoffed and told him to move along, but he was persistent, and the man’s hand crept to the inside of his leather-clad thigh. Before the stranger could so much as blink a drooping eyelid, Jim’s switchblade was pressed up against his jugular. 

“Move along.” He repeated icily. 

Hands raised up defensively, the stranger retreated, mumbling something about Jim being a ‘mad fucker’ under his whiskey-tinted breath.  
He returned his blade to his back pocket and checked the time again. It was almost midnight. The actual target of his interest should be out soon. A man by the name of Sebastian Moran, an ex-colonel, arguably one of the most dangerous men in all of London, and currently employed to one of Jim’s most serious rivals, as well as very gorgeous and /very/ bisexual. 

True to his habits, Sebastian Moran shuffled out of the bar around fifteen minutes past midnight. He was sure to have drunk his fair share of liquor, but it was not immediately obvious from the way he carried himself. He wore a thick leather jacket that clung to his large biceps and hung open to reveal a grey v-neck that complimented his well sculpted chest in a way Jim could not help but appreciate, even if leather and denim weren’t his particular style. 

Sebastian Moran pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, and fumbled in his pocket for a lighter, frowning when he failed to find one in the recesses of his jeans. Jim had, of course, nicked it while he’d ordered his drink. He smiled, sweetly, sidling up next to the leather-clad wall of muscle. 

“Need a light?” he asked, producing his own lighter. 

Sebastian glanced over at him for the first time now, glancing first at the lighter and then at what appeared to be the prostitute holding it. He apparently liked what he saw, because he grinned and accepted it, igniting the end of the fag as he looked him over. Sebastian took a long drag and the puff of smoke he breathed out clouded the air between them with the musty smell of cheap nicotine. It took every ounce of his self-control not to grimace at the stench. 

“Thanks.” Sebastian said after a moment, holding out the cigarette to Jim for a puff. Inwardly wincing, Jim accepted it, putting it between his lips for a shallow inhale. It burned in his mouth and Jim could almost feel the cancer blossoming in his lungs, but to his own credit, he smiled and thanked Sebastian in turn.  
“Don’t suppose you’re looking for a bit of company?” Jim asked, inching even closer now. 

“Might be. You offering?” he asked, his attention fixed on Jim’s hips now, his eyes conspicuously mapping over his thighs and the plane of his torso.  
“Sure am.” He said, his hand grazing along Sebastian’s forearm almost innocently. 

Sebastian grinned wider, predatory now, like a large jungle cat. “Then let’s get out of here, babe. Go on and getus a cab.” He said, smacking Jim on the ass as he turned to go. He could hear the low rumble of Sebastian’s laugh behind him, and he could think only of what that voice would sound like as he gasped for his final ragged breaths. 

The entire cab ride home, Sebastian’s hands roamed over his body, ghosting along his spine and the insides of his thighs and up his belly. It was oddly pleasant. Sebastian’s hands were large and firm, warm even through the fabric of his clothes. They were a rifleman’s hands, steady and calloused. Absently, he wondered if perhaps he should not let Sebastian give him a hand job before he slit his throat. 

When they arrived back at the man’s flat, Jim’s feet had hardly touched his door mat before he was swept up into Sebastian’s arms and promptly deposited on the couch.  
The room was dimly lit, but the apartment complex was in an altogether dismal condition so that was hardly surprising. For the level of skill he knew the man to have, it was frankly criminal that he could not afford a better living arrangement. But then, Jim reasoned with himself, living wouldn’t be a concern for him for much longer.

“You’re really fucking gorgeous, you know that?” Sebastian asked him, kissing the line of his jaw. Yes, as a matter of fact, he did know that. But to say as much would have been socially inept, and so he merely laughed, tugging off Sebastian’s jacket so as to get the clunky collar out of the way and gain himself better access to the man’s throat. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Tiger.” Jim replied, examining the closely fit t-shirt and the way his muscles pulled the fabric taut over his pectorals. It was not at all an unpleasant sight. He slid his hands over his stomach and down over his sides to squeeze his ass. Luckily for him, his fingers met no holstered gun along his waist band on the way down. His job would be all the easier, then.

Sebastian grinned. “Tell me what you like, kitten. I’ll make you scream tonight.” He promised, his voice almost a purr. And had he been anyone else, Jim was almost certain he’d have taken him up on the offer.

Instead, his knife was in his hand almost immediately, it’s blade digging firmly into the tender flesh of the sniper’s throat. “What I /like/ is for my men to come home from their jobs alive, Mr. Moran. And you have been getting in the way of that for quite some time now.” He replied pleasantly, his demeanor shifting from coy to icy. His black eyes glistened, and the man above him stiffened. 

Jim could almost always predict every detail of his plans down to the angle of the blood splatter on the carpet, but what he had not planned on was the look on his victim’s face. Rather than fear or surprise or anger… it was something entirely irrational. His pupils were blown wide, his breaths slow and meticulous, as if he had to continuously remind himself how to even breathe in the first place.

“Who are you?” the sniper asked, his hands still, not inching to defend himself. 

“Why does it matter?” 

“You know my name.” Sebastian replied, his voice steady in a way it had no right to be. “It’s only fair.”

“Jim.” He conceded, after a moment, the knife held just as firmly against his throat. And, assuming that that was that, he had been about to make the deciding cut when:

“-Moriarty?” Sebastian finished. Momentarily caught off guard, Jim allowed the sniper to grasp the wrist that held the knife against his own throat. A shot of adrenaline pumped through him once he realized his mistake, but the sniper did not attempt to pry him away, he merely held onto him as an assurance of safety. 

Jim made a face. This was not going at all the way he’d planned. After a moment: “Yes.” He agreed.

He should have attempted to remove Sebastian’s hand. To do something. If the sniper wrestled it from him, he was dead. Jim had not planned on dying today. But he did not attempt to wrestle the knife back, in fact, he didn’t move a muscle.

“…Sorry, uhm, about your men.” Sebastian murmured awkwardly after a long moment, looking down and to the side in a way reminiscent of a guilty toddler. And then, oddly enough, Jim laughed.

“You’re--- you’re sorry.” He repeated. “That’s not exactly going to bring them back, you know." "No. Well. I suppose not. Even so. You've got to be pretty damn short staffed if you're doing the dirty work yourself." "Oh. This?" Jim looked over himself offhandedly. "I like a challenge every now and again. And you are a challenge, Colonel Moran." "Not at the moment. No offense, sir, but I think you might be a bit rusty." Sebastian abruptly twisted the knife from Jim's fingers, yanking it away from him in one swift movement. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting it. Jim sat still, his posture impeccable. "You've got to pay more attention." he said, clicking the blade shut and passing it back to Jim, who narrowed his eyes at him. What sort of man was this Sebastian Moran? Stupid, or just incredibly cocky? Perhaps both. But if he had the skill to back it, oh, he was a force to be reckoned with. Something clicked in Jim's mind, and he slid the knife down into his jean pocket, his eyes on Sebastian's face. "How would you like to work for me?” he asked, leaning back against the couch.

Sebastian quirked an eyebrow. “I do have a job, currently. My boss doesn't like me flirting with other boys, really.” He said.

Jim just shook his head, fisting his hands in Sebastian's shirt to tug him down. “Your boss can go fuck himself, darling. Look at this place. You live in the housing equivalent of a trash heap. Work for me and I’ll pay you double the rate you’re getting now.” 

Sebastian pursed his lips and was silent a moment. “…I’m not going to lie, that sounds pretty decent."


End file.
